


1,506

by en passant (corinthian)



Category: Fate/Grand Order
Genre: Gory Imagery, M/M, Reincarnation AU, Sibling Incest, mundane AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-12
Updated: 2016-02-12
Packaged: 2018-05-19 21:29:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5981536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corinthian/pseuds/en%20passant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This will be the 1,506th time that he's killed Karna.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1,506

**Author's Note:**

> this just keeps happening to me i have no control over it

This will be the 1,506th time that he's killed Karna. He remembers each and every time, from the very first (when they were not who they were, not 'Arjuna' and now 'Karna') to the most recent (beheading, again, but it had been hard work — Arjuna vividly remembers how tired his arm had gotten, how many vicious sawing motions he had to make, the way Karna's head had lolled to one side, attached only by a little viscera and bone that refused to break, before he had — )

There isn't a scar. There wouldn't be, because that was an entire lifetime ago but something in Arjuna finds that repulsive. There's no mark on Karna from before. Even though he looks the same — same eyes, hair, the narrowness of his shoulders and far too soft way he (probably) smiles.

Arjuna traces the line across Karna's neck, jagged — this is where he had cut. This is where he had cut. This is where he had killed his brother, before.

"Is something bothering you?" Karna catches his wrists, quirks an eyebrow, "You're unusually quiet."

Arjuna forces a bit of a laugh, ducks his head — in this life, Karna doesn't remember, yet — "That's an insult. Are you saying I never shut up?"

"I think, I've always known when something's wrong." There is something in the way that Karna responds that unnerves Arjuna. He's running out of time before Karna remembers, probably. Usually they both remember around the same time — sometimes, they don't even know each other, but Arjuna is overcome by an overwhelming urge to travel and find him. He doesn't know what happens to Karna when he remembers, just that a certain amount of regret comes across his face, and acceptance.

It's Arjuna's least favorite look. (He can't decide which one he prefers, if asked the reverse — the one of his brother's secret smile, or the infinitely calm expression his corpse has, after every death.)

Just a little longer. He would like just a little longer.

He shoves Karna, shoulder bumping up against shoulder and snorts. "Sometimes, even you can be wrong." If he says it, then it will become true. Arjuna watches Karna's face intently and relief washes over him when the look of consternation changes, becomes that slightly lopsided wry look that's unique to this life.

"Guess that's true."

Time continues moving forward anyway.

* * *

They met at track team tryouts. Arjuna had only gone because he had nothing better to do, this was the gap between lacrosse and soccer. He needed something to keep in shape. He passed Karna, once, just to watch him soar over the bar at the pole vault. He passed him again, later, after names had been posted and people were beginning to file away from the field disappointed or elated. (Arjuna felt neither, everything was as expected.)

He didn't know why he sought him out, maybe the gears of fate had already begun to move again, but something carried his legs over to the shady spot under the bleachers where Karna was sprawled. The heat hadn't been kind to him, red spread across his cheeks and down his back, dipping under the scoop neck of the practice jersey.

"Hey," Arjuna said. He watched the sweat bead and travel. He was mesmerized — and at the time, he though it was just because, well, Karna was good looking. Lithe and fit, with the kind of calm expression that was uncommon at high school. He seemed cool and collected. (If he were to look back, he would be disappointed in his younger self for not realizing, even though there was no way that he could have known.)

"Hm," Karna had said in reply, shut his eyes and smiled. It was something stupid, and probably not as great as Arjuna remembers it — but it was like a movie, to him, the sun setting and the light splitting through the slats of the bleachers and hitting all the right places on Karna's face.

He thought he was in love.

"Hey," Karna replied, opened his eyes. "The list up?"

"Yeah... list posted a bit ago..." Arjuna couldn't find his words. He held out his hand. "Let's go see if you're on it."

"Probably not. I'm Karna."

"Arjuna."

Neither of them knew, either, their names or their meanings. Arjuna's parents were modern and self-interested, too into searching BabyNames.com and Karna's were long dead.

"Nice to meet you." It took a fraction of a second too long for Arjuna to let go of his hand.

Two weeks later they hooked up under the same bleachers after practice. Arjuna's hand under Karna's (the same) jersey, their mouths clumsy but desperate. They didn't even stop when Karna's hand landed in the mud — made by old rain water, the dirt under the bleachers, old soda pop from the previous night's football game — or when Arjuna accidentally elbowed him in the chest. They only stopped because Arjuna had been trying to be the good son he was supposed to be and because it was getting dark and both of them had to be home by curfew.

"Raincheck." Karna said, a touch cocky in a rare way that made Arjuna's heart skip a beat.

"Not too long, or I'll dump you." Arjuna joked back.

"Are we a thing now, then?" 

In an attempt to play it cool, Arjuna had asked: "Why not?"

"No reason not to."

That's how they started dating.

* * *

They don't say it, _I love you_ because when he would have, the first time after he remembered, Arjuna couldn't find the words. Instead he joked, _I feel like I've known you forever, like we were always meant to be together._ It's mostly true, anyway.

He doesn't ask why Karna doesn't say it first, he wonders sometimes. But by the time he becomes concerned about it, he also knows that they're running out of time.

* * *

It's an anniversary, of sorts, when Arjuna remembers. They decide the date completely arbitrarily — November 11th, because that's when the weather starts to turn cold and it's Karna's favorite time of year even if the chill makes his cheeks and nose turn red. He's always too warm, so when the colder weather comes and he barely puts on a sweatshirt while Arjuna wears four layers on top.

November 11th is usually about when they can both be happy outside — Karna in a light jacket and Arjuna in a jacket over his sweater, with gloves.

November 11th, three years after they started dating — Arjuna was at college, studying pre-med and Karna was taking a year off. They didn't share an apartment, because Karna still lived with his guardian who needed his help around the house and because Arjuna's parents were very insistent about this kind of thing. Fiscal responsibility and independence and all.

But they had weekends, they had nights over. They had November 11th, at Arjuna's single dorm room on the edge of campus with (high-class) delivery pizza and a smuggled six pack of beer. The window was cracked, just a little, and they spread the mattress out on the floor, next to another mattress that Arjuna 'borrowed' from a friend.

Arjuna doesn't remember most of it. He laughs it off with Karna, telling him he had too much to drink, had been too tired, that he remembers being happy. The tears had just been exhaustion, he always says.

He remembers —

— the way Karna's face looks, when one cheek broken and a sunken eye socket, the weight of a rock in his hand, the rock he had just used to bash his brother's skull in.

their tangled legs, the way the mattresses sid apart because there was no frame on the floor and the cold tile beneath on his knee

— the way the bow string felt against his finger, drawing it back and back and back and letting it fly. How cleanly it could sever muscle and bone and burn bright against the red sunset. Satisfaction, joy, a thread of elation. Karna was dead at his hand.

a kiss, to his collarbone, one to his jaw, Karna whispering to him a secret

— the feeling of skin in his hand. Twisting, pulling, peeling it back from muscle and the way congealed blood clung to his fingers. Digging, breaking bones, reaching with both hands into the ruined cavity of Karna's chest, finding the single bullet in the mass of torn arterial flesh. There wasn't even enough heart left to keep.

something on his hand and for a moment he thinks it's blood and starts asking for forgiveness.

— Karna apologizing.

Karna apologizing.

* * *

The back of Karna's neck is sensitive. One touch from Arjuna and a blush will creep around from Karna's cheeks down his back. He's so pale, his blush is always so red. Arjuna swears, always, that he can feel the warmth of it.

"It's just blood." Karna says, usually, in response.

Sometimes Arjuna presses his fingers against the back of Karna's neck until he can feel the ridges of his bones. The redness isn't just from the blush, if he pushes too hard he'll leave bruises. Karna never complains.

He never complains about the way Arjuna holds his wrists together, sometimes, pins him up against the wall even if it's brick or stucco and it leaves little pock marks in his skin. Karna's compliant in it all. Arjuna's teeth and hands, his bursts of tenderness and equal peaks of brutality.

At the end of it, no matter what, he clasps Arjuna's hand tightly when they lay together as if to say, I'm here, still.

And there are times when Arjuna wakes and can't find himself in the dark — is he a pre-med student, does he play lacrosse, is he a prince, is he a traveler, is he a ridiculously powerful magical being, there's no footing in reality for him — and can feel Karna's hand wrapped tightly around his own.

This is where he is, for now.

He worries that when he finally kills him there will be nothing left to ground him. He worries that's more important to him than loving Karna.

* * *

This will be the 1,506th time that he's killed Karna.

"I love you." Arjuna says. It's November 11th, they've been dating for five years. They're at their favorite spot, a hidden path in the woods down by the creek. There was frost on the leaves in the morning when they set out, but it's been burned off by the sun, by now.

"Me too," Karna replies, he's watching leaves trace down the creek, swirl around rocks and deeper crevices under the water.

"You can't just say that," Arjuna insists. He grabs Karna's hand, holds it as tightly as he thinks Karna does his own. "That's taking the coward's way out."

He's not prepared. There's something about the sun in Karna's hair that isn't romantic at all but more ominous, like a solar flare over the mountains. It's so utterly ridiculous and breathtaking that Arjuna starts to lose himself in it.

Arjuna hopes, almost, that Karna continues to deny him.

But, of course, he won't. "I love you." Karna says, and it's the same as permission.

Arjuna grips Karna's hand even tighter and laughs. His voice sounds strange to himself, far older and joyful than he feels. His heart is rocketing downwards, through the earth and soil. He hopes it will reach the molten core and burn away into nothing, before he has to do the next part.

(But, it stops, still connected to him by a single strand, a feeling and a title: )

He throws Karna forward, over the small edge of the creek. The water is shallow, but it's deep enough. He hasn't let go of Karna's hand, he follows him down into the cold water. It soaks through their clothes, something in the water scratches Karna's face. It must sting, Arjuna thinks absently. The blood is washed away almost immediately, however, leaving his skin pale and clean as ever.

It's too easy to hold Karna under. He doesn't even fight, just shuts his eyes.

Arjuna can't feel his fingers, the water numbs his hands so quickly. He wonders if he's losing sight of himself.

_I love you._

I hate you.

I'll kill you.

He can't feel his fingers, which means he also can't feel Karna's weight when he pulls him back up: "Fight me! _Fight_ me, dammit! Act like you care — act like you care!" Arjuna screams at him, shakes him. His knees are cold, pressed against the rocks at the bottom of the creek.

Karna coughs, water leaks out of his mouth and he just says: "I've always known."

It's funny, how it works. Arjuna feels betrayed. It burns through the chill of the water and the autumn air and he staggers up, standing — he lets go. Then it's just him standing, Karna sprawled out in his shadow.

"...how long?"

Always.

"Before we even met."

Arjuna's world falls apart in fragments again.

* * *

Karna saw Arjuna first, the day at the track tryouts. He caught sight of the person he knew, without a doubt, was his little brother from another lifetime standing in the grass. He's exactly as Karna dreams of him.

He knew it would be their 1,506th meeting. He's glad, because there have been 304 times that he remembered but they didn't meet and he died alone instead of at his brother's side.

* * *

They make it back to their apartment, wet and miserable. Karna draws a bath and Arjuna puts their clothes in the dryer, makes a kettle of tea. They drink tea in the bath and Arjuna relaxes enough to lean back against Karna, complain quietly that they need a larger bathtub.

"Everything's changed." Arjuna says, bundled up in blankets and on his third cup of tea.

"Nothing's changed," Karna replies, stretched out on the carpet, his hand tightly wrapped around Arjuna's free one.

"You're the most irritating person I've ever met," Arjuna starts laughing, as soon as the words leave his mouth. He laughs so hard he spills his tea and tears come to his eyes and he squeezes Karna's hand too tightly.

"Same here," is all Karna can say in reply.


End file.
